


Yes Oui Luv Ya

by 1PB2PB3PB4



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: A Matador ate him for the good of human and matador kind, Developing Relationship, Fluff, He speaks french, Idiots in Love, Langa is from Quebec, M/M, Misunderstandings, No ADAM in this screw that man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29636031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1PB2PB3PB4/pseuds/1PB2PB3PB4
Summary: Langa has two secrets, one of them's not even that deep, but they both revolve around Reki.Langa speaks French not English, this wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't such an idiot. Also he loves Reki, this wouldn't be a problem if Reki would only love him back.Two idiots fall in love very quickly but spend a long time trying to work out what that means for them.
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki
Comments: 26
Kudos: 471
Collections: warm me up like soup





	Yes Oui Luv Ya

**Author's Note:**

> Lol so I hc Langa as (semi-) useless gay and Reki is a disaster bi.
> 
> Also this was meant to just be crack misunderstandings about everyone thinking Langa speaks English and him being too awkward to explain he actually just speaks French, but then it evolved into more of a developing relation ship story.
> 
> Cherry and Joe are totally a thing, it's just not really relevant to the story, and Langa doesn't think too much about it.
> 
> This is in an AU where ADAM doesn't exist because that man can rot in a dumpster. Miya still challenged Langa to a beef though and everyone is still too chill about a twelve year old being at "S"
> 
> Hope you enjoy, feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed.

“Do you speak English?” a kid with spiky red hair and his arm wrapped up in bandages whispers, leaning over the desk as soon as Langa takes his seat. It's his first day at school in Japan.

“Uhh,” Langa starts, too taken aback to properly answer the other boy and say “No. I’m from Quebec”. Unfortunately the boy seems to take his surprise as an answer.

“That’s so cool!” the kid whispers again, before slithering back into his chair at a glare from the teacher.

Langa blinks a little, and then tries to focus on whatever it is the teacher is writing on the board. He almost sort of wishes he hadn’t sat at the back, but equally he relishes in the lack of glares on the back of his neck.

* * *

When school is over Langa wanders around trying to find a job, and he still has that one interview lined up from when he went in and talked with the owner a few days back. The problem is that he really can’t read or write Japanese super well.

He suddenly wishes he’d spent more time practicing, but he supposes now that he’s going to a Japanese school it will catch up. Eventually. He still needs a job though.

He’s too  _ young _ , the latest potential employer tells him. Which is a new one at the very least, even if it’s not at all helpful.

So Langa’s walking along the street, feeling a little bit sorry for himself frankly, when the red-haired kid, named Reki- which he knows from several reprimands- suddenly crops up once more in his field of vision and Langa’s flat on his back.

He’s holding a skateboard and now Langa has an urge for mountains and snow, to just run, racing his  _ papa _ to see who could get to the foot and the chairlift to do it all over again fastest. Langa swallows past the lump in his throat and brings himself back into the moment.

“So what are you doing here?” Reki asks cheerily, once he’s helped Langa to his feet, his hands brushing the dust off his shirt.

“Uhh,” Langa says again, and he doesn’t know why this seems to be his favourite word around Reki, but it’s all a bit much and even through his clothes Reki’s hands are very warm.

“I’m trying to find a job,” he says at last with a bit of a shrug, then to try and take control of the conversation, make sure Reki doesn’t just leave he asks, “Is that a skateboard?”

It’s the right thing to say, because Reki, who had already seemed pretty animated, practically lights up and beams.

“Yep! Do you skate?! Skating is  _ amazing _ \- here, have a try!” Reki urges, dropping his board to the ground with a clatter.

It rolls along the ground, and Langa gives it a look with a healthy dose of scepticism as it moves slightly, but how different can it be? 

He gets his first foot on the board, and it only shuffles slightly under his weight. Emboldened, both by his success and Reki’s encouraging grin, he lifts his other foot and-

The board wheels out from under him, and suddenly he’s lying on his back staring at the sky again, the breath knocked out of him while Reki laughs.

It’s a nice laugh though, not mocking, and he finds he doesn’t mind all that much.

  
  


Then Reki takes him to his work (“He’s from  _ Canada! _ ” Reki whispers loudly, and Langa smiles awkwardly), and then to “S” and then nearly gets into a contest he’s not sure he can win.

Langa’s been Snowboarding since he was three, doing unofficial competitions since he was eleven and Reki’s his friend. He’ll do this.

He straps his feet to the board, and it’s a rough start, but it’s  _ glorious _ .

Reki’s amazed, but  _ proud _ grin at the end is the best bit of it. The other boy waves his arms around and Langa suddenly wishes he’d hug him.

They drive back home, giggling slightly with Langa pressed up against Reki, and Langa feels  _ happy _ for the first time in a while since his father died.

* * *

When Langa arrives at school the next day Reki is there waiting, buzzing with energy, at the school gates.

“Langa, Langa!” Reki shouts as Langa makes his way towards the other boy, “We’re going to be doing a paired project- in English- I think you should work with me, and then we can go skating after school and make you the best competitor-” Reki looks around and hushes down a little, “that “ _ S _ ”- Reki goes back to normal volume, “has ever seen!.”

Langa smiles and tries to not look as uncomfortable as he feels. Here’s the thing, Langa doesn’t really know English all that well. Possibly a little better than Reki, but he couldn’t even be certain of that.

He’d  _ hated _ English classes, and he was already bilingual and it wasn’t like you  _ needed _ English to get around in Quebec. His parents certainly hadn’t pushed the issue. He knows that in plenty of areas English was commonplace, but not in the tiny town where’d grown up and his school hadn’t even taught English very well.

He can speak French. But Langa can’t shake the niggling fear that Reki doesn’t want him to speak  _ French _ , he wants him to speak  _ English _ and Langa’s worried that if he doesn’t Reki won’t want to be friends anymore.

A reasonable part of him thinks it’s dumb and he’s probably making a big deal out of nothing. A less reasonable part that likes Reki  _ very much _ and doesn’t want to be alone says that relationships are based on give and take.

So if Reki is giving him skateboarding lessons then Langa needs to give him English. Except he can’t, and he doesn’t want Reki to find out.

If he’s a little subdued after that, then no one comments. It’s not like he’s known Reki for very  _ long _ after all.

* * *

His heart is pounding when English classes start, but instead Langa’s sent to the principal, who’s a fairly old woman with thick glasses.

“Your skills in Japanese reading and writing could do with some work, though not unexpected for someone who has been living in Canada,” she tells him seriously, “The school has decided it would be more beneficial for you to bring your written skills up to par, than to sit in English lessons.”

Langa nods. He’d rather be able to read and write to an expected standard than learn a third language, especially when he feels that everyone sort of expects him to be fluent because he’s  _ Canadian _ even though that's not how it works .

He’s given a workbook that looks suspiciously like it’s been designed for children and sets to work.

When the hour is over he heads back to class and slides into his customary seat next to Reki.

Reki beams at him, and begins to open his mouth, but one glare from the teacher soon stops that.

Still, Langa awkwardly smiles back.

* * *

Langa’s just arrived at the Skatepark after another afternoon of applying to jobs and not getting called back for any interviews, Reki’s there waiting for him, lying upside down on a skate ramp, gently moving his board back and forwards with his foot.

He tells Reki all about his lack of success in finding a part time job, and Reki, bless him, starts trying to give him interview advice.

Langa is pretty sure he has a crush.

“No, it’s not that,” he explains, and then hands over his job application forms. He sees the understanding bloom over Reki’s face and Langa tries not to fidget under what he fears will be judgement.

But Reki doesn’t judge him, instead he suggests Langa apply for jobs by speaking to people, because his spoken Japanese is “really good”. He feels a little warm inside at the praise, even though he shouldn’t because he’s grown up speaking a mix of Japanese at home his entire life.

But that wouldn’t work though, as he explains to Reki, because as soon as he had to write anything he’d be busted, fired, and back to square one.

“Yeah well,” Reki tells him, having finally stood up, They don’t know what they’re missing out on. You’re  _ bilingual _ , which is infinitely cooler than having  _ perfect _ writing skills.”

That shocks a laugh out of Langa, which makes Reki grin back even wider and Langa knows he’s  _ so _ gone for Reki that it almost hurts.

The happy feeling almost instantly dissipates though when Reki snaps his fingers.

“I know! Why don’t you sign up to be a tutor or something? I’m sure plenty of parents would be keen to have an  _ actual _ native speaker to tutor their kids.”

Langa shrugs, shakes his head, and tries not to let on to the pounding of his heart. He doesn’t know why he feels so much like a fraud, just that he’d do anything to keep Reki’s friendship.

“I don’t think parents would want to hire someone who can barely write in Japanese,” Langa tells Reki instead of the  _ whole _ truth. That he really doubts many people in Okinawa are desperate enough to learn French that they’ll hire a highschooler. Besides, he knows Quebecois is not exactly regarded the highest amongst French. People probably want  _ Parisian _ French, and he spares a thought for a snort at that.

“Welllllll,” Reki says after a short pause, “If you need a job you can always come and work where I do! The owner’s really chill, but if you ever  _ did _ need to write anything you could always ask me, because I’d be there. Then we could have the same hours as well! So we could practice skateboarding together!”

“Uhh,” Langa hesitates, unsure. If Reki’s offering.... But is this really an offer Reki can make?

Reki waves him off, “The old man loves me, so if I put in a good word for you he’ll hire you. He’s been complaining about needing more staff anyway. Please say yes, please say yes!”

Langa says yes, and he has a job working with Reki. It’s better than he would have thought, and he feels a warmth blossom up inside that Reki wants to spend time with him too.

* * *

Reki offers to make him a board- his very own, custom made  _ board _ .  _ His _ skateboard, made by Reki.

Has Langa mentioned how  _ extraordinarily _ gay he is for Reki?

This is something else Reki can’t know about him. Langa has two secrets, he can’t speak English, but rather French and he’s madly in love with Reki Kyan. If either of these get out he’s going to scream.

* * *

Langa’s days are taken up by a whirlwind of skating, working, school, “S”, and  _ Reki _ .

His  _ maman _ comments that she’s glad he seems happier. That he’s made a friend in Reki. Langa hums non committally and digs into his dinner and asks his mother about  _ her _ day.

She tells him about work and reconnecting with old friends she’d left in Okinawa when she’d moved to Canada in the weird mix of Japanese and French they speak at home because Langa told her he was scared of losing it

They’d pretty much always spoken Japanese at home back in Canada, but now it switches a little, because he speaks Japanese  _ out there _ and French reminds him of his dad and he can’t lose it.

Maybe Langa mentions Reki a little too often, because his  _ maman _ looks at him scrutinising for a moment, before informing him that she expects to be introduced to any nice boys at dinner before Langa does anything serious.

He groans and blushes bright red and explains that it’s  _ not like that _ as his mother laughs.

* * *

Reki invites him to his house to work on his board- to get ideas for designs and such. Langa agrees without hesitation and only remembers to send a text to his  _ maman _ that he won’t be home for dinner when he’s halfway to Reki’s.

Reki’s house is so  _ nice _ , it fits all the images he’s had in his head of what Reki’s house could be. It’s sunny inside, if a little chaotic, but Langa’s quickly pulled through to camp out in Reki’s room and Langa allows him to ride the tide of Reki’s energy as he always does.

It’s a tip in that way that’s so stereotypical for teenage boys. Though Langa’s actually always been pretty neat.

“So this is my room,” Reki announces sweeping his arms up in a grand gesture as Langa slowly steps inside, being careful not to step on anything lying on the floor.

As he looks around he notices Reki’s fingers starting to twitch with nervous energy, so he smiles in the other boy’s direction.

“I love the posters,” he tells Reki, and he does. Boards soaring through the air, the skaters on them, riding in utter freedom.

“So do you want to start?” Reki asks after Langa’s looked around the room, he can see the red haired boy teeming with impatience even as he’s trying to hold it together.

Reki’s always moving, always needing to  _ do  _ something, maybe that’s why he likes skateboarding so much, the thrill, the activity. Reki seems almost calm when he’s on his board.

Not like Langa, when he was snowboarding, and now when he skates, it’s the only time he can  _ feel _ the energy thrumming through his veins like electricity. Normally he likes holding himself still and calm, keeping everything in his place. Skating is different though, he feels alive in a whole new way.

They’re opposites, Langa’s aware, but he doesn’t care. They slot together and Reki’s his first  _ real _ , real friend he’s had in his life. He’s always been a little solitary, but he’d never clicked with  _ anyone _ back in Quebec, and especially not like how he’s clicked with Reki.

“Take a seat,” Reki tells him as he turns the computer on and impatiently clicks with the mouse even though they all know that clicking doesn’t  _ actually _ make the computer go any faster.

There are two seats at the desk, one, a computer chair, black and swivelly. Another looks far more like a dining chair, and considering the cramped space of the room, likely doesn’t belong in here. He wonders if it was for another friend, or if Reki had been planning to invite him over even before school.

He sits down on the dining chair, and in the cramped space of Reki’s room it’s right up against Reki’s chair, their shoulders touching, and if he put his hands on the desk their pinkies would touch too.

Langa leans forward to get a better look as Reki starts going through potential designs on the screen.

* * *

Reki gives him his board just before his competition against Miya at “S”. He also gives him a hug, “For good luck!” before the other boy sprints off.

Langa has a suspicion that his face is as red as Reki’s hair, but prays he’s wrong.

Judging by Joe’s amused smirk he’s not.

The board is brilliant, and he’s not just saying that because it was made by Reki. It moves in a way that feels much more  _ right _ , it’s the freedom he’s been craving. The freedom he thought was locked away on mountain tops and ski slopes, but that’s now here on the back streets of Okinawa.

He glides through the track and winning is on his mind. Not just because he loves the thrill, not just because he wants to do Reki’s board justice, not just because Miya called Reki a “slime” or said he’d make him his dog if Langa lost. (Though that’s a big part of it).

It’s all of those reasons and none of them. It’s the wind whipping through his hair and the freedom and the thought of Reki’s smile the last time he’d won a match, the warmth of Reki’s arms around his waist.

When Langa reaches the end of the course he sees Reki jumping and waving frantically in the crowd. Cherry and Joe are discussing something behind him.

Langa makes his way through the crowd, ignoring Miya or anyone else who might want to talk to him.

“How was the board?!” Reki bursts out as soon as Langa’s in earshot, Langa smiles, and he’s returned with one of Reki’s own, splitting his face from ear to ear.

“It was amazing,” he says honestly, “Thanks so much for making it for me, I couldn’t have won it without you,” he says the last bit a little louder, seeing Miya approaching from the corner of his eye.

Miya scowls.

“Slime make boards because they can’t skate,” Miya says and it sounds huffy and so very  _ twelve _ . Which…. Why is there a twelve year old here? Langa looks at him in a more dubious light.

Reki deals with Miya far better than Langa ever could. Talks about  _ enjoying _ the experience and not the win. Having fun.

Reki’s good with kids, Langa sees. Probably because he’s got so many sisters.

Reki’s nicer than him, and so good.

“Whatever,” Miya scowls, but he looks awkward and he’s blinking a little. Neither of them comment on it, “I need to talk to my competitor.” Miya walks off a little, and with a slight eye roll at Reki, Langa follows.

“So what do you want as your reward then,” Miya huffs, fists bunched in his hoodie.

Langa looks over at where Reki is talking animatedly with Cherry and Joe,  _ nothing _ , had been on the tip of his tongue, but he changes his mind.

“I want you to stop calling Reki a “Slime”,” he says, keeping Reki in the corner of his eye.

“Oh my days, seriously? That’s  _ it _ ?” Miya groans, “You’re,  _ ugh _ .” but he skates away before Langa can say anything else. He doesn’t really want anything though, especially not anything from a small child.

He just wants to skate and spend time with Reki

  
  
  


Later when Reki’s driving back to town the red haired boy asks him if he wants to sleep over at his house. Because it’s so late. To celebrate or something. Because Reki lives in between Langa and “S”.

Langa says yes so fast he gives himself whiplash, and Reki’s looking at the road so Langa can’t see him grin, but he can imagine it.

* * *

“Happy birthday Langa!” Reki shrieks, jumping off his board and onto Langa’s back, nearly making the two of them topple off  _ Langa’s _ board in the process. He manages to regain his balance though, and slowly allows the board to roll to a stop before stepping off with Reki still on his back like a monkey.

“Jesus Christ, Reki!” Langa says and watches as the other boy just shrugs unapologetically, grinning wildly, his hair astray and Langa wants to kiss him.

He shoves that thought down, because Reki is just his friend, and if that’s all they’ll be then that’s got to be enough.

Reki’s waving something around though, too fast for Langa to get a good look at it.

“I made you a card, Langa! And I’m going to buy you cake later!” Langa blinks a little taken aback, he’d always kept his birthday pretty lowkey back in Canada. He hadn’t had all that many friends he wanted to spend the day with, he’d rather hit the slopes with his  _ papa _ .

Reki  _ stops _ for a moment.

“You eat cake right? Langa,” Reki asks, wagging his finger, “You better, I need to buy you birthday food as your best friend.”

“Yeah, I eat cake,” Langa replies, a beam of his own to rival Reki’s fighting its way onto his face.

“Good, good, now have your card.” Without preamble the square of card is thrust into Langa’s face. Leaning back a little, he accepts it and opens it up.

Opening it up he is met with a short message in Japanese, but on the other side, and far longer, are more familiar Latin characters. He swallows a little.

Reki’s written him a message-

“-in English!” Reki cries, “because you’re cool, and I know you struggle a little with written Japanese, so I thought I’d write your birthday message in English, because it’s just for you and birthdays are meant to be  _ special _ .”

Langa smiles back, but it feels a little weak on his face.

“Oh,” Reki asks, his hand going to the back of his head and he suddenly seems very awkward, “Is it not good? I  _ tried _ , I spent  _ so long _ with the dictionary and-”

Langa doesn’t want Reki to feel bad. It’s Langa’s  _ own _ fault for letting Reki think he speaks English at this point, but now feels like a very awkward and not ideal time to drop  _ that _ particular bombshell.

So he does the only thing he can think of.

“No!” he says, shaking his head furiously, “It’s very good, I uh, I really appreciate it.” And he does, well, the sentiment at least. He tries to imagine Reki writing this in French, and then a real smile takes over his face.

“Right,” Reki says then, smiling a little, “Birthday hug and then birthday cake.”

* * *

Later that night after his  _ maman _ has wished him good night Langa sits in his room and opens up google translate, then hesitates. Opens up an online English-French dictionary instead. Does what Reki must have done and translates the words one by one.

By the time he’s finished he’s smiling so hard it hurts and his eyes are a little wet. He feels all kinds of soft and floaty inside.

What did he do to deserve someone like Reki? He’s not sure if this is some kind of punishment or a gift.

Langa is  _ so _ gay, but that’s not even it. It’s not just he loves Reki like  _ that _ , it’s  _ everything _ .

He puts the card on his bookshelf, so he can see it every night before he goes to sleep.

Reki’s drawn a skateboard- with wheels- flying down a mountain of snow.

On the back there’s a snowboard with rider, awkwardly still in the middle of rush-hour traffic.

It’s very Reki.

* * *

He’s at Reki’s house again, he’s there a lot these days. At least when it’s raining and skateboarding in the park is no good. Reki’s mother always smiles when she sees him and Reki’s sisters chatter excitedly at him before Reki eventually drags him into the semi-privacy of his room.

There’s an easy pseudo-silence of Reki’s constant humming as they do their homework, Reki sprawls out on his bed and Langa sits carefully at the desk, keyboard pushed out of the way.

It’s oddly easy to relax into the noise that surrounds Reki, it’s not distracting, and it’s only broken when, every so often, Langa asks Reki for some advice on how to write a word.

He tries not to ask too often though.

“Langa,” Reki speaks up when Langa’s midway through a maths problem that refuses to be solved, “How do I say “enjoy”? But in English?”

Langa freezes.

“It’s in the textbook, but I can never work out how to pronounce half of this, and the teacher’s always getting on at me. So is it like this-” Reki says something, “or like  _ this _ ,” Reki says something else.

His palms itch, and the smart thing would be to say, “I don’t know,” except Reki thinks he speaks English, and Reki’s been so helpful with his Japanese, and he doesn’t want Reki to think he’s being selfish. Or be annoyed that he accidentally lied for so long.

He doesn’t  _ really _ think Reki will stop being friends with him simply because he speaks French and not English at this point. It’s stupid though, but he still can’t shake the niggling fear that Reki will be irritated, even if he doesn’t show it.

“Uhhh,” Langa says as he leans over Reki’s shoulder to look at the word on the page. “ **Enjoy?** ” He says questioningly, trying his best to mimic the English accents he’s heard in passing.

“Who knows if your teacher will even want it in a Canadian accent though,” Langa says hurriedly, before Reki tries to ask him more questions.

Instead Reki shrugs as he repeats it again.

“Mmm,” Langa says awkwardly and then goes back to his maths.

They don’t go to “S” that night.

Instead they go outside and fling mud at each other until Reki’s mother tells them they need to come inside and ushers them to go shower.

When Langa emerges, clean, warm and largely dry, there’s a small note under the door saying clothes are on the other side. He knows they must be Reki’s, and the sleeves don’t come up to his wrists and his ankles are bared to the air.

Reki’s mother puts his uniform in the wash and asks for his mother's number so she can ring her and let her know that Langa is going to be staying the night.

* * *

“So you’re spending a  _ lot _ of time at Reki’s house,”  _ maman _ starts as Langa steps through the door after school the next day.

“Uhhh,” Langa replies, a mix of worried and embarrassed, “I guess?”

“I don’t mind,” his mother is quick to reassure him, “I’m glad you’re getting on so well. It’s just that I’d like to meet him. If you don’t mind…”  _ Maman _ trails off, and looks almost nervous for a moment, picking at her sleeve and Langa suddenly feels bad.

“Sure!” He says hurriedly before he can feel any worse, he doesn’t want his  _ maman _ to think he’s cutting her out of his life, or that he’s embarrassed. “It’s just he lives closer to work, and you’re working a lot,” he explains and then winces, feeling bad again. Also his  _ maman _ knows his two secrets (though one is dumb) and he doesn’t want Reki knowing. But that’s not fair to her.

“I would have thought two teenagers would  _ like _ the privacy of being home alone,”  _ maman _ laughs and Langa blushes, awkwardness quickly skimmed over and replaced with another kind entirely.

“It’s not like that,” he moans, “We’re just…” he thinks for a moment, trying to put it into words, “We’re just friends, and colleagues.” He goes to wrap his  _ maman _ in a hug anyway.

“Okay,” she responds calmly, and he thinks that’s the end of it, “Do you  _ want _ it- being “just friends”, though?” she then follows up with a lighthearted smirk.

“ _ Maman!” _ he shouts, breaking away, reddening up again.

“Don’t worry, I promise to be cool and not embarrass you. Now let me know when Reki can come to dinner and I’ll be sure to be off work. Friday or Tuesday would be best though.” His  _ maman _ chucks him once under the chin, and then lets him go to put his bag down in his room.

  
  


Right, now he’s got to ask Reki over to his house. It’s not a big deal, he’s been to Reki’s  _ plenty _ of times. It still  _ feels _ like a big deal, somehow.

* * *

It’s a Thursday night, and they’re at “S”, Reki idly kicking his skateboard back and forth on the side of the road while Langa clutches his in his hands.

Cherry and Joe are having a beef later, but they haven’t even arrived yet, so him and Reki are just killing time. Miya’s meant to be joining them later to watch as well. But for now it’s just the two of them.

“Do you want to meet my  _ ma _ \- my mother?” Langa blurts out, stumbling slightly over the words, and he didn’t mean to ask it like that! Having it sound so official like they’re dating and it’s a meet the relatives. “Um it’s just- I mea-”

“Sure!” Reki beams, coming to a stop on his skateboard right in front of Langa, lays his hands on Lang’s shoulder, the skateboard making them the same height.

“I would  _ love _ to meet your mother, let her see that I’m an honest boy who’s worthy of her precious son.” Reki lifts his hands from Langa's shoulders to pinch his cheeks and Langa scowls a little but doesn’t try to bat the other boy’s hands away.

“You know what I meant,” Langa huffs, Reki just grins wider and hums mockingly, he opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it might have been is interrupted by a short cough.

“Sl-, Reki, Langa,” Miya announces, “you two are so  _ weird _ .” the kid says with all the self importance of a twelve year old.

Langa does not  _ glare _ at him for interrupting a moment, because there was no moment to interrupt. It’s just him, being hopelessly gay for Reki. It’s not like the other boy likes him back. He decides to glare at Miya anyway though, because Reki’s let go of him, though he hasn’t stepped back.

“You know this means I’m going to get you to finally eat Poutine, right?” Langa asks in an undertone.

  
  


When Joe and Cherry finally arrive Reki is vibrating so hard, his knee knocking into Langa’s own leg, his hoodie jiggling with the movement of his fists. Without giving himself the time to think about it, Langa slips his own hand into Reki’s pocket and takes hold of his hand.

The other boy looks at him with wide eyes, and Langa pointedly doesn’t blush and looks away. Reki doesn’t let go, and while he’s still practically buzzing with excitement, his leg going up and down, his hands are still.

Joe and Cherry go to the start line. Langa gives Reki’s hand a squeeze.

They’re just friends, but for a moment Langa allows himself to think that it’s something more.

* * *

“Congrats Joe,” Langa says at the same time Reki shouts “RIP Cherry.” Miya, who had immediately skated down to the finish line after Joe and Cherry had gone out of sight, rolls his eyes.

“What took you two so long?” the  _ twelve _ year old huffs.

“Langa was trying to teach me a snowboarding trick,” Reki says cheerfully, ignoring Cherry’s less than impressed look at his earlier outburst.

“Oh really? Sounds interesting,” Joe says.

“You didn’t watch the beef?” Cherry sounds slightly put out.

Langa opens his mouth, but before he can say any words Reki cuts in again.

“Oh we did! We just got a bit, you know, distracted. But we definitely watched most of it!”

“At least half,” Langa adds solemnly, going along with Reki.

“Well….” Reki drawls, a wicked grin taking his features and Langa has the urge to kiss him strike him once more.

“Maybe only a third,” Langa concedes, “But it was a very good third. Especially when you did that corner, Cherry, the turn was so tight.”

Cherry, at least, seems somewhat appeased.

(In actuality, they probably watched about three quarters of it, just not always with proper concentration. And Langa probably spent too long looking at Joe’s abs instead of his technique, but no one needs to know.)

“You two are  _ gross _ ,” Miya scoffs.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re slime, we get it,” Reki says fondly, ruffling the kids hair.

“Are you guys coming to “S” tomorrow?” Joe asks, stretching back a little, “I’m going to be having a Beef with any winner of a Beef this past month who wants a go.” He feels Joe’s eyes focus a little meaningfully on him.

A small- not even small, a pretty considerate part of Langa wants to say yes. But…

He looks at Reki, who’s watching him back a little nervously with twitching fingers.

“Sorry,” Langa tells Joe with a shrug, “We’ve got plans for tomorrow night.”

Cherry quirks his brow slightly.

“Yeah!” Reki beams punching the air, “I’m gonna meet Langa’s mum!”

Langa blushes a furious red while Reki seems completely unashamed.

  
  


“Oh well,” Joe says, folding his arms and sounding deeply amused, “I’m sure we’ll have another opportunity to beef. I wouldn’t want you to cancel your… dinner with the parents.”

Langa glares at him a little, but there’s nothing  _ technically _ wrong with that statement.

“Hey Cherry!” Joe calls, “How about we get dinner, I know this  _ great _ little Italian restaurant you know and-”

“You’re an  _ idiot _ ,” Cherry shoots back, but he sounds fond.

“Ugh,” Miya scoffs once more, “All of you are so  _ weird _ . I’m off.” With that the kid skates away.

Reki’s moved a little closer towards him, and Langa bumps his shoulder as they begin to question Joe and Cherry on their beef in earnest.

Langa goes off with Joe to learn some trick he did, and Reki stays behind with Cherry. Looking over his shoulder, Reki’s talking to Cherry with an odd seriousness, but Langa doesn’t think too much about it, because he gets to learn from  _ Joe _ .

* * *

“We’re home!” Langa calls out to his  _ maman _ in Japanese as he steps through the door, taking off his shoes. There’s a loud thump as Reki dumps his board and his bag on the floor, though in a strange change of habit, not directly in the way of the door.

Reki shuffles awkwardly as Langa smiles and leads him to his room where he’s going to dump his own stuff.

He is suddenly hit with the realisation that a  _ lot _ of stuff in his house is in French. And-

But does it even matter if Reki knows?  _ No _ , he thinks rationally.

_ Still don’t tell him though _ , he thinks, considerably less rationally. To be honest, Langa’s at the point where it’s just approaching kind of awkward. He’s well past thinking Reki only wants to be friends with him because he speaks English, and he doesn’t even _ really _ think Reki would be mad at him for indirectly deceiving him.

….. Unless he thinks about all the “English language” advice (bullshit) Langa’s been giving him on how to say words. Which had thankfully stopped after the English teacher had criticised Reki’s pronunciation.

Reki had told him he thought the Canadian accent was better than whatever the teacher taught and Langa had been too embarrassed to explain that he was probably  _ not _ using a Canadian English accent. Or the birthday card that Reki had clearly spent so long on.

Langa still appreciated the sentiment though, and it sits pride of place on his bookshelf. 

But yeah, maybe Reki would be a little mad.

  
  


“It’s very nice to meet you at last Reki. Langa’s told me so much about you,” his  _ maman _ says once they’re sitting down at the dinner table, Langa’s hastily made poutine in centre place. He’d only convinced his  _ maman _ to let him have it when he’d pointed out that he wanted to show Reki Canadian cuisine.

The significant look his  _ maman _ had given him showed how much she really believed that, but he didn’t much care. He had poutine.

“Thank you, you too,” Reki responds politely, swinging his legs, and Langa knows this because a foot hits the side of his leg.

When it happens for the third time Langa gently kicks back, and then it devolves into an all out footsie war under the table.

“Please boys, not while we’re eating,” his  _ maman _ tells them after a loud bang from an errant knee hitting the underside of the table.

“Sorry,” they mutter in unison.

“So Langa tells me you’re very into skateboarding Reki?”  _ maman _ asks, breaking the slightly awkward and nervous silence, “And that you build your own boards, how does that work?”

Reki who had been holding himself unnaturally still and tense loosens up and begins to extravagantly explain the process, a little nervously at first, but Langa can see him really get into his stride.

Seeing Reki talking about skateboarding is something else. It’s…

It makes  _ Langa _ feel light inside. When Reki’s talking to someone else and Langa can see the glow in his eyes, the excited energy in his hands as he gestures. When he’s like this he lights up the room.

Or at least more than he already does.

* * *

Langa goes to the toilet and when he comes back his  _ maman _ and Reki suddenly go silent.

“What were you talking about?” he asks suspiciously as he takes his seat once more.

“You,” the two of them say in tandem and Langa rolls his eyes.

“Your mum’s really nice,” Reki tells him as Langa shows him out, slowly lacing up his shoes. “I might replace you,” Reki continues, looking up with a cheeky grin, “Get myself a  _ new _ skating protege.”

“Then who would teach you all your snowboarding tricks?” Langa questions, poking Reki in the shoulder and trying to not let on how much his chest had clenched up there, just for a moment.

Reki pretends to fall backwards with the force of poke and Langa snorts, eventually extending a hand to help Reki back up.

“Have a safe journey home,” he tells the other boy, lingering in the door frame. Reki’s board lies on the ground by his feet.

“Yeah,” Reki says, still in that way he only ever is when he’s nervous about something. “Thanks for having me.” Langa is drawn into a hug, he’s just relaxing into it, when, so quick he barely realises it there’s the ghost of lips on his cheek and then Reki’s gone, skating away before Langa can completely process what just happened.

  
  


“Just friends?”  _ maman _ asks, when he comes back inside, his face still burning red.

“I-” Langa starts and then stops. He doesn’t know what to say, he shrugs, and  _ maman _ draws him into a hug then.

* * *

He thinks a lot about that kiss- and was it even a kiss? Over the next few days, though they don’t see each other until Monday.

He peers at Reki from the corner of his eye in class, but Reki doesn’t seem to be acting any differently from normal, fiddling with the miniature skateboard on his desk and looking up at Langa occasionally.

When it comes time for English class and Langa to go to the principal’s office he very deliberately does  _ not _ look at Reki.

When it comes to lunch he’s decided that it didn’t mean anything, it was just a farewell thing. Hell, his parents used to do that kiss on both cheeks things sometimes to other adults. Albeit rarely. Though he did see some other adults do it.

It wasn’t weird, as long as Reki didn’t think it was weird- and he wouldn’t because he  _ did _ it. But it wasn’t like Reki could  _ like _ him like that anyway.

But….

Reki’s waiting for him with his lunch in hand as Langa gets let out.

“Do you want to go to “S” after work today?” Reki asks him, walking off towards the roof, “Or would you rather practice tricks? Cherry and Joe kept asking me where you were, but I told them it wasn’t their business.”

“Um,” Langa tries to think about something else other than Reki’s lips on his cheek as Reki speaks, “I dunno, is anyone we know doing a Beef tonight?” He’d avoided “S” all weekend because he’d needed time, but now he doesn’t know the schedule.

He likes “S”, but equally there’s a trick he really wants to get down. Something Reki’s been trying to teach him, and he’s determined to get it right.

“Not that I know of,” Reki tells him easily, “But I mean, who knows. It’s “S”.” Langa nods at that, it’s very true.

“I’d like to try and get that trick you’re teaching me down,” Langa decides after thinking it over a little longer.

“Sure!” Reki tells him, and then starts plunging into his lunch in earnest.

* * *

He’s at Reki’s house again, and they’re both half sitting, half lying, on his bed, the chairs long abandoned.

He catches sight of one of Reki’s English textbooks lying on the floor, and a sudden bubble of guilt fills his chest.

Reki keeps recounting his story of “the second most epic Beef he ever saw!”- there have been a lot of stories like that, and normally Langa would be teasing him good naturedly about how every Beef was “epic!”

Also why they were all “the second most”, and why Reki refuses to tell him what the top spot was.

All he’s thinking though, is that he, Langa Hasegawa, is an utter idiot. Because he’s accidentally become caught up in this language lie that isn’t even _ deep _ , but is slowly getting awkward. Especially when Reki’s sisters proudly announce they’re doing their English homework.

Thankfully Reki tends to chase them away with a fond eyeroll to get out of his room.

But yeah, Langa just feels  _ bad _ at this point.

  
  


“Uh, Reki,” Langa says nervously, once the conversation comes to a lull. He’s been trying to build up the courage to say this the entire time they’ve been sitting on Reki’s bed, and now he’s started he’s determined to finish.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Langa starts seriously, and he doesn’t even know how it got to this point? It’s not even that  _ deep _ , but he’s so nervous because it’s  _ Reki _ .

Reki’s hand is lying slightly outstretched on the covers, and Langa grabs it in an effort to make himself feel more brave.

Reki looks up at him with big eyes and Langa hadn’t even noticed how much the other boy was vibrating until the bed suddenly goes deadly still.

“Yes Langa?” Reki questions, and his hand squeezes Langa’s slightly. Don’t focus on that, don’t focus on that.

“I’ve had this secret for a while and uh,” Langa pauses again, trying to find the words. Just do it like a band-aid, he thinks.

…… is it just him or has Reki shuffled closer?

“I uh, I can’t speak English. I’m from Quebec and we mostly speak French, I’m sorry if I disappointed you or…” he keeps babbling, not quite daring to look at Reki as he feels him edge away slightly, though he keeps a grip on the other boy’s hand.

There’s silence from Reki, and eventually Langa forces himself to look up.

He catches the last traces of something that looks like disappointment before it’s wiped from Reki’s face. Langa blinks and tries not to care. He turns away and starts to disentangle their fingers.

“No! No!” Reki says at last, “I don’t care about that- why  _ would _ I care about that? Anyway Cherry said- anyway. I just, uh…” Reki trails off his voice going very small, “I just thought you were going to say something else. That’s all.”

“Oh,” Langa says, feeling suddenly wrongfooted, but stops pulling their hands apart.

“Yeah, oh.” Reki says, a touch sadly looking from Langa’s face to their hands and then back up again.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Langa says again, with some more understanding. He grins, “Well Reki, is there a secret that  _ you’d _ like to tell me?” He shuffles closer so that their shoulders and hips are touching again. Leans his head on Reki’s shoulder, lips almost brushing his cheek.

“You bastard,” Reki tells him without heat, “Making  _ me _ do all the work. I uh,” Reki goes bright red to match his hair, it’s adorable.

Langa decides to take some sympathy and quickly pecks him on the cheek, it  _ could _ be platonic if Reki wants it that way, but somehow Langa doubts.

“Uh yeah, that.” Reki stutters, “That’s the secret. Me too. Can I kiss you too?” Reki asks, “Like on the lips?”

“ _ Oui _ , sure,” Langa replies and lets go of their hands to shuffle around into a better position, he can feel Reki buzzing with energy again. They’re leaning in and Langa both wants to shut his eyes and keep them open to savour this.

**BANG**

There’s a loud knock on the door and they fly apart just before one of Reki’s  _ many _ little sisters walks in. Langa’s heart is pounding in his ears and he’s sure his face is as red as Reki’s hair.

“Mum says dinner’s ready!” she shouts and then runs back off down the corridor.

  
  


“So French?” Reki asks as they make their way to the table, “How did you get out of English classes then?”

“You tell anyone and I’ll tell Cherry that you think Carla sucks,” Langa jokes, Reki makes a mock wounded gesture, clutching at his chest.

“So boyfriends?” Reki asks quietly next.

“Yeah, boyfriends,” Langa tells him and thinks he might burst with happiness.

“I hope you know that I expect you to call me cute things in French, by the way,” Reki tells him, with a serious look on his face, it’s betrayed by the quirking of his mouth.

Langa laughs, and he keeps smiling as they take their seats at the table.

* * *

_ Several days later. _

“Wait, did this mean you couldn’t read the birthday card I got for you?” Reki asks, sounding appalled.

Langa goes to open his mouth.

"And all that _advice_ on how to speak _English_?!"

Langa very deliberately says nothing .

"Langa!"

He skates away grinning.

**Author's Note:**

> The most epic beef spot (in Reki's mind) was Langa's first beef against Shadow.  
> Also when Langa goes off to learn a trick with Joe, Reki is asking Cherry for relationship advice.


End file.
